Mistaken Identity
by Madhumalati
Summary: Bleach and Yami no Matsuei crossover. Spoilers for both series. A rather raucous party turns up at the wrong shinigami office, and a harrassed secretary attempts to make sense of it. Kurosaki does not help. Poor, poor Tatsumi.


_**Mistaken Identity**_

A/N: Bleach/Yami no Matsuei crossover. Set post-series for YnM, and just before Renji, Hitsugaya, Ikkaku et al turn up at Ichigo's school in Bleach. Spoilers for all of YnM. This fic has been dying to be written. My first attempt in either fandom, woot!

Tatsumi peered at the newcomers, curious.

They were an odd bunch.

They were all five wearing the full ceremonial shinigami garb, for one, which nobody at the Shokan division had done since, well, since Tsuzuki decided that open-shirt and trenchcoat was a good look for him about ninety years ago. There was also the fact that they were all clutching rather…large…and odd-looking swords – hadn't they heard of good old-fashioned magic? And then there were the hairstyles: a profusion of red on one, another was bald, a third had the kind of hair that screamed gay in a way that nobody had done since Muraki, in Tatsumi's opinion. The other two were normal (except for being blond and gray) and that, oddly, seemed even stranger in this company.

'Yes? Can I help you?' he asked, adjusting his glasses.

The redhead stepped forward, taking charge. 'Um…we're lookin' for Kurosaki. Ya know him?'

Tatsumi frowned absently. They all took a discreet step back; even an absent frown from Tatsumi tended to have that effect. 'Kurosaki? What do you want to talk to him for?'

'We're friends of his,' the redhead said.

'Friends?' Tatsumi frowned again. Hisoka didn't do _friends_. He tolerated Tsuzuki, respected Tatsumi, appreciated Watari and was vaguely bewildered by the rest of the world. He didn't usually talk to members of other divisions. 'I'm sorry. He's not in yet.'

'He skipped school?' the woman with a really outrageous cleavage asked.

'Pardon?' He must have misheard.

'Oh well, he must be on holiday,' she concluded.

'As a matter of fact, he isn't,' Tatsumi said. 'He's on a case right now, but he should be back in an hour or so.'

'On a case?'

'A lost soul that overshot its limit. It's somewhat confidential.'

'Waitaminute,' the kid said. 'You know about him being a shinigami?'

Tatsumi's brow quirked. 'Of course I know he's a shinigami. Do I look like some sort of idiot to you?'

There was a moment of general indecision and a long whispered conversation. Then the redhead, who looked least out of his depth, turned back to him. 'Say, um, mister, how many people around here know about Kurosaki being a shinigami?'

'Well, everyone,' Tatsumi said, puzzled and growing suspicious. They said they knew Kurosaki, but they weren't acting like it. 'The entire division.'

'I don't believe this,' the bald man said. 'After all we told him about secrecy. He can't just go around telling everyone he's a shinigami!'

'He doesn't,' Tatsumi said, even more confused. 'He doesn't even talk to anyone who's not in our division, let alone living people. I don't even know the last time he went out without Tsuzuki prodding him into it.'

The puzzled looks were back with a vengeance.

'We talking about the same guy?' the redhead said finally. 'He's a teenager, blond, about yea tall, grumpy, short-tempered, likes books, and he's real great with a sword.'

'Yes, that does sound like Kurosaki,' Tatsumi said. He rubbed at his forehead. This was rapidly becoming surreal. He wondered whether he'd had any of Watari's coffee again.

The door clanged open behind them. A pretty young shinigami about Hisoka's age stood there, fuming. 'You idiots!' she yelled. 'What did I tell you about running through the gate before it's fully opened! Do you know how much trouble Urahara and I went to to get here and rescue you pack of morons?'

'What's all the noise?' Tsuzuki poked his head around the corner, and promptly retreated when he saw the vein throbbing visibly on Tatsumi's forehead. His partner, a little braver, approached the Sanctum of Doom.

'Ah, Kurosaki,' Tatsumi said, pleased to see the end of the ordeal. 'These people were looking for you. They said they were friends of yours.'

Hisoka looked rather ill from the amount of spirit energy in the room. 'I've never seen them before in my life.'

Suddenly, all movement from the other group ceased, and they stared at Hisoka as if he were a new and interesting species of animal.

'That's not Kurosaki,' the one with the feather objected.

'That's exactly what I've been telling you, Renji!' the girl roared. 'You're in the wrong anime! Now get the hell back before you rip their 'verse apart.'

'Oi, Rukia–'

'A cross-anidimensional portal?' Watari asked, sounding bright and interested – damn the man for _always _turning up when he shouldn't. 'That's a fascinating concept. Would you use computers for it, or magic?'

Rukia stared at him, riveted by the owl nesting comfortably in his hair. Tatsumi had seen a lot of people react like that. 'Here. Talk to him. You look as crazy as he does anyway.' The girl shoved a business card at Watari and then herded the rest of the squalling, protesting shinigamis out of the room.

Silence reigned in their wake.

'We-ll,' Watari said, eyeing the card in his hand with such…anticipation…that Tatsumi immediately began to worry. 'That was interesting.'

'You heard it all?' Tsuzuki asked eagerly.

'I wanted to ask him for more money, and I was just outside the door the whole time.'

'Tell me about it?' Tsuzuki begged, tail waving.

'What was all that noise?' Terazuma growled as he stalked around the corner and pointed a finger at Tsuzuki. 'Don't tell me. It was you, wasn't it?'

'Hey, I didn't–'

'_Silence_,' Tatsumi said in a deadly quiet voice that could kill lesser demons at twenty paces. 'Terazuma, I want those five files on my desk in two hours flat. Hisoka, I need your and Tsuzuki's report now. Watari–'

'I already handed in mine.'

Shadows swirled and stirred under the kagetsukai's feet. '_Then go do something else_!'

The group scattered instantly.

'Oh, and Kurosaki?' Tatsumi growled, turning the kind of full-blast Die, Immediately glare that he hadn't used since Muraki had carked it on the hapless Hisoka.

The youngest shinigami, to his credit, was the only one who could withstand that glare at that range. Other than Watari, who Tatsumi was beginning to suspect had some sort of magical diffusion shield to intercept his glares.

'Er, yes?' Hisoka said uncertainly.

'Change your name,' Tatsumi snapped briskly and stalked off to find some aspirin.


End file.
